Mockingjay: The hero history forgot
by TheGamesGuy
Summary: The second civil war is shrouded in secrecy. but now, two decades after the rebel victory, a portion of the records was finally released. Wanting more details, I gathered information from unknown sources. There was a reason for my obsession... I noticed a strange similarity in the materials I gathered, they all mentioned a girl, followed by the terms, "Mockingjay" and Girl on Fire"
1. Declassified Records

"Hey, Marcus! Is that piece on District 4's depleted fish stocks finished?" Asked one of my co-workers.

"Yeah, I put it…somewhere…" I tore through the piles of paperwork and newspapers on my desk. I found the data disk underneath a file about a popular film star. I kicked back my office chair and rolled towards my co-worker. "Here it is." I said as I handed it to him.

"Great," He said. He took a step away, but stopped himself and turned back around. "Say, you're going to the archive tomorrow, right?"

"You know it! Me and some of the guys are going to camp out to get the good stuff first." I replied. Tomorrow, the government would be declassifying the first batch of documents and records pertaining to the revolution. It had been little over twenty years since the war ended, and the conflict had been shrouded in mystery ever since. As a reporter working for one of the Capitols news networks, I was one of many who were eager to air stories about the heroes who won our freedom. My network, East Panem Broadcasting, had a slight advantage having me employed. I was known to be a workaholic doing both writing, research, and video editing. More importantly, I maintained a string of contacts across the country, including some military members. Every now and then, one of my military contacts would leak just a tiny bit of info to me, the EPB would make a story, and before long it became public rumor.

"Seriously?" my co-worker said, a perplexed look on his face.

"Think about what could be in there! Casualties counts, the names of war heroes, all kinds of details about our early democratic government-"

"Don't you have a story to write?" he interrupted.

"I got time." I rolled my chair back to my desk. I returned to writing an article about tips on making an apartment look bigger. Horribly boring, but I guess enough people like this for it to be deemed worthy of broadcasting. I reached a stopping point at around 6 pm. I returned to my apartment, out of curiosity, I tried one of the tips, didn't do much. After having a bite to eat, I picked up my folding chair and put on a coat, making sure my ID badge was still visible. I walked down the busy capitol streets towards the archive building. A huge white quartz building with beautiful stained glass windows, each window had the seal of a district, there were 13 in total. Already a small group of people were sitting on folding chairs outside. Journalist ID's hanging around their necks.

"Marcus! Marcus Fidelis!" A voice called out. It was my friend, Adam Crix. I greeted him as a set up my chair adjacent to his. "Do you have the time? I forgot my watch. I remembered the wine though!" He said, holding up a bottle of wine.

I checked my watch, 10:37 pm, the vault was to open at midnight. We talked and sipped some wine to pass the time. Everyone suddenly stood up, I looked over to see a soldier walking towards the archive steps, an administrative stripe running down his sleeves.

"Easy people, its only 11:02," he said. "I'll unlock it at midnight." He marched up the steps and disappeared inside. I could practically see the vibes of excitement radiating off of the people camped out front. I could hardly contain myself either. For twenty years, vague facts and few details were all that emerged about the war. No one was quite sure why, but maybe we would find out.

"You do realize these are only partial records right?" Adam said, finishing off the last bit of wine.

"I know, I hear there are six vaults in total, and they will open one every twenty years." I replied. For whatever reason, the President Paylor administration had promised to open one every twenty years, possibly for security reasons. The current President Constantine upheld the policy as well. There could be all kinds of dark secrets, and they wanted to wait until the generation that witnessed the war to die off before those records got out. I was only a child, during the war, I was too young to remember much. I remember my mother and father taking care of me inside our bombed out house, I remember when an injured and bleeding rebel soldier came crawling into our home. My mother and father saved that man's life even though, at the time, they were our enemy.

Finally the clock struck twelve, and a security guard motioned us up the steps. We entered into the main hall with its spacious glass ceiling, the stars from the night sky shimmering through. Shelves of books lined the walls and twisted around corners seemingly endlessly. A few display case held artifacts of varying historical significance. And a large marble statue of a scholar writing on his desk sat in the center. The archive staff motioned us into a freight elevator and took us down to the basement. We exited into an un-impressive hallway, cement floor, cement walls, it wasn't meant to look pretty. We went down and reached our destination. Vault No. 130-A, holding records of the civil war. The soldier from before was sitting at a desk nearby, his red administrative stripe reflecting the harsh white lights of the basement.

"Try not to spill anything on them." He said in a bored tone as he got up and opened the thick steel door for us. We poured in, the inside of the vault contained 3 sets of shelves, stretching back a good 30 feet, and numerous filing cabinets. We began pushing past each other, carefully reading labels and opening files, searching for the thing that would dance across the headlines. There was a lot here, I was prepared to spend hours. I found an article about peacekeeper casualties in District 3, Autopsy of President Alma Coin after her heart attack the same night Corilanus Snow was executed by firing squad. Only half an hour in, something caught my eye. In the back corner, a grey metal crate, a military ID stamp consisting of numbers was taped on the side. Just above that, a scratched out seal of old Panem. I looked it over, and tried to open it. The case was locked tight.

"Excuse me," I asked one of the clerks, "do you have a key for this one?" I pointed to the case.

She responded with a perplexed look "That's weird," she replied. "I don't see a key number on it, I don't think we have a key for it."

"Well if I took it, can I try to break it open myself?" I asked, I was adamant, something about this crate seemed special.

"You're certainly welcome to try." She said.

I picked up the case and brought it to the soldier at the desk, I was the first one to leave. The others were still looking through the cabinets. The soldier looked it over, "There is no checkout code on this one!" he said to one of the clerks. The clerk came by, peering at the markings through his thick glasses.

"Just write down the military ID and a description." He said.

They soldier wrote it down in a ledger along with my contact information, and I set out. I returned to my apartment, set it on the dining table and went to bed. I spent the following morning hopelessly trying to force the case open, fortunately I had given myself the day off. I took a trip to the library and found a guide to lock picking. After several attempts, the case opened with a satisfying click. The hinges squeaked as I pulled the lid back.

Inside was a stack of folders with military time stamps. I picked up the first one, set it on the table and proceeded to open it. It was a medical record, a photograph was paper clipped to it. The photograph was that of a young woman with straight black hair twisted into a braid, olive skin, and gray eyes. I pulled off the picture and set it to the side, the record was heavily censored. Likely an uncensored copy lay in one of the other vaults. Name, blacked out. Height, blacked out, etc. A district 13 seal was present in the corner, perhaps these were rebel enlistment documents. I pulled out the next folder, it was far thicker than the previous one. I opened it a packet of papers stapled together. I took a look at the first page, I noticed less censorship than the medical record. A few blacked out bits here and there, but one word had been blacked out, then red text spelling "MOCKINGJAY" printed over it. Two words were blacked out later in the document with "GIRL ON FIRE" printed in red. Likely the censored words were a name, the "girl on fire" words were likely the first and last name. I was intrigued and decided to give it a read. After the first paragraph I was hooked, these were definitely not enlistment documents.

"[MOCKINGJAY] has strong and independent survivalist instincts due to her difficult past and is good at thinking outside the box. She is not socially adept and has a hard time making friends due to the emotional strain on her life which has made her hard and cold."

I continued through, this "mockingjay" grew up in District twelve, judging by appearance, I assume she lived at the Seam, likely a poor family. Names of any family or friends were blacked out. She was a skilled archer, and had a sister, although the name of the sister had been blacked out too. I couldn't help but smile as I read through. For twenty years the story of this woman had sat locked in this case, only now being viewed by someone. My smile dropped suddenly, when I came across something unexpected. A heavily censored line that read:

"Volunteer tribute from district twelve, 74th [Censored] Hunger Games. Notable for alliance with district 11 tribute [NAME REDACTED], refer to video file C-22. As a member of the final two, she and [NAME REDACTED] made a decision [Censored] in the end, GIRL ON FIRE was named [censored] victor of the 74th Hunger Games."

I immediately set the file down, that wasn't right, it couldn't be right. I ran to my bookshelf and began shifting through the various encyclopedias and science books. I found the one I was looking for, a large white book with various weapons on the cover. "Kill or Be Killed: The Hunger Games." was the title, I paged through rapidly. Passing by chapters on arena designs, mutt use, and game maker techniques. I reached the tributes chapter. The 1st annual Hunger Games, 24 tributes, only 4 named in the book, the others had "unknown district # tribute." in place of their name. The capitol lost a lot of records due to the civil war. As I paged through, the missing names began to become fewer. By the 47th games, all tributes were named. Then I reached the 74th games. Victor, Peeta Mellark of District 12. I looked back to the document, according to this document "GIRL ON FIRE" had been the victor. Was the book wrong? I looked through the tributes, Cato Stratton, Rue Hastus etc. finally, Peeta Mellark, as the male tribute for district 12. The female tribute, "Unknown district 12 tribute." A picture of Peeta Mellark was there as well, receiving a victors crown from President Snow.

Who was this woman? This "girl on fire." why was her name missing from public records? I was hooked, firmly believing that I had made the right choice with this crate. I paged through the other folders. She was present at the battle for district 8 and district 2. Apparently some kind of poster-girl for the rebellion. She apparently took part in the battle itself, armed with a bow and arrow, a sort of iconic weapon given her skills as an archer. A file contained a detailed account of her exploits in the 74th hunger games. But the document became heavily censored midway through. What were they trying to hide? Was it her association with the censored tribute? At the bottom of the case, was a small black box containing a dozen data disks. I found the one labeled C-22 and popped it into my computer.

It was a silent video excerpt from the 74th Hunger Games, one I had never seen before. A young girl from district 11, had been caught in a net, camerawork revealed a district 1 tribute hiding in the brush. Out of the trees, the girl referred to as "Mockingjay" appeared, I identified her thanks to the photograph included with her censored medical record. The district 1 tribute flung his spear towards the trapped girl, spearing her in the torso. This act soon earned him an arrow in the neck, courtesy of Mockingjay. Mockingjay then cut the girl down, they were talking to each other, on the verge of tears, but the video had no audio. The little district 11 girl passed away. Mockingjay cried, she seemed to sing to her, and then arranged flowers around her corpse. She walked away, and the video file ended.

I picked up the phone and called Adam, likely still at the archives. "Hello?" he answered.

"It's Marcus, are you still at the archives?" I asked.

"Yeah, why? Do you need something?"

"See if you can find an official text record for the 74th Hunger Games, bring it by my place."

"I'll see what I can do." He said.

I thanked him and hung up. I returned to the files in front of me, I wanted to find out who this woman was, dig up everything I could. She was a legend, struck from history. Near the bottom I finally struck gold. A disciplinary transcript from District 12, signed under the name "Romulus Thread". The record contained a detailed description of the capture, confession and punishment of a "Gale Hawthorn" for poaching. The record states,

"Upon the 20th lash of the whip, the spectacle was interrupted when peacekeeper Darius Cooper grabbed Captain Thread by the arm, Cooper was then knocked unconscious. As the spectacle continued, none other than [GIRL ON FIRE] intervened and was struck by the whip across the face."

This record had given me the names of three people who possibly knew this woman's real identity. I made it a point to call my friends at the civil census bureau and outer district contacts to see if I could find these people, if they were still alive. I recognized one of the names though, Gale Hawthorn, where had I heard that before? I remembered, he was a senator, until his term was up and was replaced by Gaius Gault. I could probably search for him in the political records.

Hours later, my phone rang. It was Adam, he had found what I wanted. He delivered a large binder labeled "74th Hunger Games. I paged through, everything was here, names, cause of death, significant events. But, the name of the district 12 female tribute had been censored. Along with several lines pertaining to her exploits at the very end. With this record, I gathered that the district 11 girl from the video was Rue Hastus. The last paragraphs pertaining to the victor were heavily censored and altered. This document supported the fact that Peeta Mellark was the victor, but if that was true, why did Mockingjay's classified documents say otherwise? I made several calls to my outer district contacts, who pledged to help anyway they could.

I decided to pursue the history of the civil war through this woman, I was certain I would find something. Could it be hidden truths about the war? Or just an exaggerated battlefield legend? I was never able to meet the woman herself. In fact, it's questionable if she even did exist. But thanks to my contacts, I got a hit, and found several individuals who knew her. I decided to interview these people. And soon learned that my pursuit of this "Mockingjay" would not be a mistake.


	2. The Warriors

I awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the front door, I sat up in bed, especially tired after doing research into the small hours of the morning. My hair was disheveled, dark circles under my eyes, and a ratty-looking five 'o' clock shadow. I had not showered in 2 days. I put on a robe and shuffled to the door. The gray case that had started it all sat on my dining table, amidst a chaotic mess of papers and other research materials. A poster board hung on the wall, decorated with names and pictures, each connected to each other by a series of lines. It could be the story of the century.

I opened the door, it was one of my friends and contacts. Corporal Victus Antica, a soldier in the Republic army. As a member of a military intelligence team, Victus had access to a few otherwise restricted resources.

"Whoa, man. When is the last time you bathed?" was the first thing he said. I had asked him to dig up records on the peacekeepers mentioned in the disciplinary transcript. Darius Cooper and Romulus Thread. A briefcase was tucked under his arm, which was all I cared about.

"Is that it?" I asked, pointing to the briefcase.

"Yep, peacekeeper personnel files district 12, year 560-561." He handed me the case. "Let me know when you're done and I'll take it back. If you need to save anything, write it on another piece of paper, if stuff is missing it's my ass on the line."

"Thanks Victus, I'll be in touch soon." I replied.

"Just shower at least once before I come back," He turned and walked away, I shut the door behind him. I found a clear spot on the coffee table and set it down. I sighed, my mess had just spread to another piece of furniture. I opened it up and looked through the files. I found the two, Romulus Thread and Darius Cooper. Looking through Darius' file, he appeared to have had regular dealings with the black market as a customer. He was a young man, 21 years of age, born and raised in district 2. Paging through his record, I discovered that he had been discharged and punished as an Avox. He had been condemned for attempting to prevent the whipping of Gale Hawthorn, as mentioned in the disciplinary transcript. He was later arrested and tortured to death during the rebellion.

I put his file back, he would certainly be of no use to me. I pulled the file for Romulus Thread. A fanatically loyal and ruthless, he was the model peacekeeper. Despite his loyalties to the capitol, he did have a slight dislike for the Coriolanus Snow administration, believing the man's predecessor to be a better ruler. Nevertheless, he followed orders to the letter. He faced trial after the war, he used a plea of "following orders" and avoided a sentence along with many other peacekeepers. The record goes on to state that he returned to District 2 after the war. I had hit a jackpot. Through one of my outer district friends, I was able to contact him, and arranged a meeting.

I finally took a shower and shaved. I booked a train ticket and packed for the trip. I brought with me a change of clothes, and a tripod camera along with a few files on the Mockingjay. I arrived at the train station ahead of schedule, and sat on the platform bench bored until the train drifted into the station. The trip from the Capitol to District 2 would take less than a day. As I took my seat, a man caught my eye. An older gentleman, with an unkempt beard and dark hair. On his head was a hat with the words "Civil War Veteran". At lunch, I made a point to meet him in the dining car.

"Excuse me sir, I see you fought in the civil war, do you mind if I ask you some questions? I'm a writer for the EPB."

"Sure, I'd be more than happy to answer them!" He replied in a cheery tone. I wasn't able to record the conversation, but I did learn a bit about the woman I was pursuing. His name was Farlan Kale, a rebel soldier during the fighting District 5. We sat down at a booth together with our meals, I ran back to my seat to recover one of the files and returned soon after.

"Are you familiar with the term 'Mockingjay?" I asked first and foremost.

"Of course I am," He replied. "The bird the capitol never intended. That was our symbol, we had it everywhere, our flags, on the sides of military vehicles. It's even on my hat, see?" He took of his hat and showed it to me. Behind the words was a gold embroidered mockingjay holding an arrow in its beak.

"Alright, what about "Girl on Fire?" Farlan hesitated for a second. He bit his lip, deep in thought.

"I haven't thought about her in a long time. I think she was like some kind of actress or model or something. Did all kinds of propos for the war effort."

"Did you know her name by any chance?"

"Can't say I do."

"Was this her?" I slid the picture across the table. He looked at it, and gave a slight nod.

"Yep, that was her alright… what kind of story are you writing anyway?"

"It's just a story," I asked a few more questions, but didn't get any answer I was hoping for. I thanked Farlan for his time, and returned to my seat. I was dishearten afterwards, was that it? Was she merely a propaganda actress? But then why would the documents claim she had been in the Hunger Games? Or why did they say that she had in fact won? Despite public record supporting Peeta Mellark as victor. Perhaps Romulus Thread could answer these questions. The mere thinking of the subject drove me up the wall as I waited to reach my destination. Just the thought, at the front of the war, here was this girl, a victor who trailed across the headlines, inspiring the people to rise up… and then disappeared from history.

I awoke from my nap just as the train entered District 2. District 2 consisted of dozens of villages stretching across the great mountain range. It inhabitants were the descendants of the first pioneers who left the Capitol in the old days. It primarily dealt with masonry and mining. It also contained a good deal of military facilities, fitting, as the region was set up as a defensive barrier to protect the Capitol. The train pulled into the station and I hopped off. The district station was nowhere near as glamorous as the Capitol facilities, but it was definitely better off than it was pre-civil war. As was to be expected for district 2, a large group of soldiers were waiting on the adjacent platform. I took a tram to one of the outer villages. The village was small, and known as "The Fort". The village was used for the housing and training of security force recruits. I walked in to the main building, and was greeted by a bored secretary. I informed her of my appointment and was directed to a waiting area. I sat there with two others. I could see a door labeled with the name Romulus Thread. After ten minutes, the door creaked open, and Romulus stepped out. An intimidating fellow with cold piercing eyes. Despite his age of 63, he still appears in remarkable physical shape. Once the feared and sadistic captain of the district 12 peacekeepers, he now works as a combat instructor for civilian law enforcement.

"Which one of you is Marcus Fidelis?" he said, pointing to the three people. I raised my hand and stood up. "Great, right this way." He motioned me into his office and shut the door. "So they tell me you're a journalist." He reached out for a handshake. I shook his hand and introduced myself, he in turn did the same.

"Do you mind if I film this interview?" I asked rather nervously. His intimidating eyes and calm composure was more than a little unnerving.

"Sure, go right ahead." He replied. I set up my tripod camera and took a seat on the opposite side of his desk, the file in hand.

"So as you know, the first batch of documents was released pertaining to the civil war and events leading up to it."

"I pleaded guilty to war crime charges, and was acquitted by the court." He said expressionlessly, cutting me off.

"That isn't the point of the interview," I said, laughing rather nervously. Romulus remained stoic. "You see, in a batch of documents, I unearthed this file." I placed it onto his desk and opened it, I turned it around so he could read. "It's a transcript of a disciplinary record from district 12, year 559."

He, pulled his chair closer and leaned over the documents. He put on a pair of reading glasses and looked over the transcript. "Now it says here that someone identified as Girl on Fire interrupted the punishment and that you proceeded to strike her with a whip. I was wondering if you knew anything about this Girl on Fire."

His stoic expression broke, and he cracked a smile. "Now that is something I haven't thought about in a long time…" He said, leaning back in his chair.

"So you knew her?" I asked, my heart pounding with excitement.

"Girl on Fire fit her right, everything she touched went up in smoke. She was one of the poorer district folks, which was until she got her house in the Victors Village. She was on our watch list, in big, bold, highlighted, red letters."

"Do you know her name?"

He paused for a second, thinking. "The last name was Everdeen, I definitely remember that. I think her first name was something with a K."

I made a mental note of that, the Mockingjay's last name was Everdeen. "Now you said that she had a house in Victors Village, was she a victor?"

He looked at me like I was stupid. "Well I'd say yes, she was."

"Ok, but for whatever reason, public record lists a, Peeta Mellark as the victor of the 74th hunger games, the same hunger games that the record states she was a part of."

"Well I never watched the games myself, truth be told not many outside the capitol did. So I can't tell you much about what happened there."

"I see, now, the disciplinary record says she interfered with the punishment of a criminal, can you tell me about what happened there?"

"Can do," He leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. "I was in the head peacekeepers house, doing some work in my office. When I heard a knock on the door, I opened to see a kid, maybe eighteen or nineteen, he had a wild turkey in his hands. He looked surprised, likely expecting my predecessor, the 'oh so corrupt', Cray Jones. He had been poaching outside the district fence, on the Capitols land. Since he confessed, I decided to spare him from execution. I decided that a good scourging in the square would be enough. Around halfway through, one of the peacekeepers tried to intervene. Little guy, not sure what made him think he could take me, so I knocked him out."

He paused, and a slight smile came across his face. "And then she came along. That bitch ran right into the square and tried to stop me. A little sixteen your old girl against a trained and experienced peacekeeper. I struck her down with the whip. It turns out the man I was punishing was one of her friends, they were both poachers, dealt in the black market, etc."

"And if this record is correct, the man being whipped was none other than Gale Hawthorn right?"

"You certainly did your research, good old senator Hawthorn. Who knew he was such a dumb kid. Of course maybe the real idiot is me, I voted for him." He laughed, clearly finding a bit of humor in the events that unfolded.

"So did she back down after you hit her?" I asked.

"Are you kidding me? The crazy bitch was right up again. I drew my sidearm, threatened her to back off, and then out of nowhere, comes none other than Haymitch Abernathy. He yells at me, said she had some photo shoot or some crap. I let them go, they took Hawthorn with them. I was upset, but at least I left a nice scar on her face for that photo shoot."

"And who was Haymitch Abernathy?" I asked, already seeing a possible lead.

"He was the town drunk basically, but he was a victor in one of the hunger games."

"Do you know if Ms. Everdeen is still alive?" I asked, the more info I could get, the better.

"Is she still alive?" He had somewhat perplexed look. "Well I suppose it is hard for bad guys like us to die, the real heroes always seem to die first."

I proceeded to ask him a few more questions about the war. When the war started, he and the other peacekeepers were evacuated before district 12 was firebombed. He would spend the rest of the war in the Capitol, mostly at his desk, reading over the daily casualty reports. When rebel forces arrived, he and many other officers surrendered.

Satisfied with his answers, I thanked him for taking the time to meet with me, and left. After checking into an inn, I booked a train ticket for the next day. Then I made a call to my friend Adam. He answered, and I filled him in on the details.

"Her last name is Everdeen, can you look through census records? See how many Everdeens show up and let me know?" I asked, now that I had a name, I knew where to look.

"I'll see if they have any of that on public record. Talk to you soon." He hung up, I turned my attention to my next lead. Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the 50th hunger games. More importantly, it meant he was a mentor for the district 12 tributes. Meaning that he could tell me a great deal about Ms. Everdeen, the mockingjay. Knowing his name and district number, finding him was as simple as looking into the District 12 phone directory. I also looked for anyone with the name Everdeen, no luck. Hopefully the pre-war census records would show a result. The phone rang, and rang, until finally someone picked up.

"Hello?" a voice answered, soft and feminine.

"Hello, my name is Marcus Fidelis, I'm a reporter and journalist for the EPB, Is Haymitch Abernathy there?"

"Oh… Mr. Abernathy passed away last month." The voice answered.

"Oh, I-Im so sorry… I had no idea." I responded.

"He wasn't family, but he did offer me some employment, now I'm here cleaning the mess he left behind."

"If it isn't too much trouble, can I ask you some questions about him?"

"I'll try to answer as best I can." She said.

Her name was Hazelle Hawthorn, she worked as a house keeper for Haymitch Abernathy. After he passed away at the age of 62 of liver failure, she took it upon herself to at least finish cleaning out his home in the victor's village. In life, he was known as being drunk and disorderly, but apparently played a part in the rebellion. I asked for more details, however she could provide none.

After I hung up, I fell back onto my bed and rubbed my hands down my face, letting out an exasperated sigh. Once again, the Mockingjay had evaded my search.


	3. The Fallen

Upon return to the Capitol, I immediately used my 2 weeks of saved vacation time to continue my search. More and more books and documents soon found a home in my apartment as I and my contacts continued collecting research materials. Three days after my return, I received a call from Adam. He was at the archives, he had found the census count amongst public records.

"Okay, so year 555 to 560, district 12 census. I have two, technically four Everdeens counted." He informed me. He had also found a couple of people with the name Evurdeen in district 6, however the different spelling and district made it unlikely to have any connection.

"What do you mean, technically four?" I asked.

"Well, there is a Margaret Everdeen, and a Primrose Everdeen. It lists a Grecks Everdeen, but he seems to have died in early year 555. Then the strange one, the name is scratched out."

"You mean, like, it's censored?"

"No, no, no. It's scratched out, with pen. I can't distinguish anything except an 'S' at the end of the first name, and the 'E' and 'N' in the last name."

"Well that certainly is strange."

"What is upwith your obsession over this chick anyway? No offense, but it's kind of creepy." He said, he seemed to be expressing genuine concern for my sanity. I assured him I was fine, and hung up.

My search continued, modern census records turned up no results for Margaret Everdeen nor Primrose Everdeen. In fact, no Everdeens were present in any census after year 570, when the post-war census began. However, the Evurdeen family in district 6 seemed to still be going strong. My soldier friend, Victus, was able to produce a copy of District 13 refugee listings, and delivered it per my request. After the firebombing of District 12, many survivors fled across the mountains into neighboring District 13. Perhaps the Everdeen's died in the bombing, but if they survived, they would have gone to District 13. Through some digging, I turned up Primrose Everdeen in a District 13 enlistment form, mid-year 561. That would put her into the Siege of the Capitol at the young age of 13 as a battlefield medic. The chance to meet her in person would be invaluable, if anyone knew the Mockingjay by name, it was her. I got in touch with my contacts, and asked them to look for her.

The very same day, as I continued reading through page after page of censored documents, I was informed by a contact that they had located Primrose Everdeen. I was overjoyed, the chance to meet the sister of the Mockingjay herself. My mind raced, would I have enough money for train tickets if she was out in one of the further districts? But as it turned out, she was a lot closer to home than I ever expected.

"Praetorians! Present Arms!" the honor guard captain shouted as I passed by a military funeral on my way through the cemetery. A verdant green field, well kept by the groundskeepers, most of whom were Avoxes. They tended to the graves of the fallen warriors as a sign of respect for their part in freeing the capitols many victims. The headstones filled the entire field, uniformly sized and cut out of bright white stone. Row 17, Number 36, Primrose Everdeen. A bouquet of primrose flowers decorated the grave, a caring gesture of respect for a caring girl.

As the war began to wind down, the Panem government allowed displaced young people to make shelter outside the president's mansion. Forming a civilian barrier around the last holdout of Panem's crumbling government. The rebels encircled the area, and a standoff ensued. I was just a child at the time, but I will never forget the shock and despair on my parents faces when they heard the news. The Capitol set off 53 explosives in the center of the civilian camp. Peacekeeper and rebel medics rushed to the scene, only for a second wave of 24 explosions to wipe them out. Maybe Coriolanus Snow couldn't stand the idea of rebel victory, and decreed to the world that he was the holy god of Panem, able to do anything even in his final moments. It was a final sacrifice that engulfed all involved. Nearly 500 people died. How did the people of the Capitol feel about what they saw? And what did the Mockingjay think of it? As she watched from the frontlines...

I heard a pair of footsteps behind me. I turned to see one of the groundskeepers. I asked if it was coincidence that her name was Primrose, and that the grave had been adorned with primrose flowers. The worker opened his mouth, pointed to it, and shook his head. He was an avox, unable to speak. He brought me to someone who could. He told me it was a request from the family. I asked if they could give me information on the family, he told me he could not.

I returned to my apartment, hoping to pursue another lead. The Mockingjay's enlistment document for the district 13 military. Attached in that file, was a certificate of completion of training, signed by a Sergeant Alvina York. Alvina had served in the republic military for a brief 2 weeks until her resignation. Through the "Resettlement Program for Displaced Citizens" she found herself in district 11, working the orchards. I contacted her, and arranged a meeting. It would cost a lot to book a train trip that far, but I was willing to cut my food and utilities budget to pursue my obsession.

The train ride was long and took several days. At last, the lights of District 11 could be seen in the distance. It was 2 am when the train finally arrived. I stepped out of the station and breathed in the fresh air. Being cooped up in a train car had made me a bit stir crazy. Over the fence, fields, orchards, and ranches swept across the flat landscape. The settlement itself was unimpressive, shanties and bunkhouses made up to the bulk of the residential district. The wealthier had homes further into the city. I hadn't expected the train to arrive this late at night. I contemplated my options, and decided to wait it out in a small deli near the station. I took a nap at the table until I felt someone kick my foot.

"You alright buddy?" a voice said. I opened my eyes to see two Vigiles, civilian law enforcement that had replaced the peacekeepers. They both wore crimson uniforms with a matching beret. I quickly checked my watch, it was morning.

"Im fine, I was just resting my eyes." I replied. I got up and headed out. I reached a small shack, cobbled together out of wood and sheet metal. I noticed an array of cables steming out from under the walls. The government was doing its best to redistribute wealth, at least they had 24-hour electricity now. I knocked on the door, an older woman in her 50's answered.

"Hi, I'm Marcus Fidelis from the EPB, I'm here for Alvina York."

"Im her." She said, "Come on in." She motioned me inside, her house was small and well-kept considering the deplorable living conditions. I could still see her military dog tags around her neck. We down at a rickety table, and I set up my camera.

"Ok, now I have a few questions about the civil war,"

"Shoot," she responded. I pulled out a folder and placed it on the table. Opening it, I revealed the signed certificate of Ms. Everdeens completion of training. As well a picture of her.

"I was wondering if you could identify this woman for me." I slid the picture over to her.

"Oh my… where did you get this?" she asked, holding the picture in her hands.

"It was in a case of declassified records pertaining to the civil war."

"I see… well this is Katniss Everdeen, she was one of my trainees, I think she did some propaganda work beforehand." I was overjoyed, finally, someone who knew the Mockingjay.

"What was your relationship with her?"

"We weren't all that close, it was a mentor/protégé relationship. I was a combat instructor, training wave after wave of young people to become bullet sponges. She was good, but had some trouble following even the simplest order. She was young and driven, not necessarily out of desire for freedom, I think there was something she was a bit more passionate about. She wasn't perfect, but could grasp the fundamentals of combat."

"What could she have been so passionate about that made her fight the way she did?"

"She had lived through the hunger games, they say she attempted suicide. I guess she wanted to get back at the capitol for what they had put her through. Or something about her schoolyard crush that the capitol got a hold of.

"Sounds like she wasn't all that into the whole rebellion idea at first."

"She certainly had no love for us folks at district 13, but she hated the capitol enough to side with us. She was still just a kid, she didn't understand the rules of war."

"And what were those rules?"

"I always taught my trainees that there we three rules. First, is to let go of hate, it will just get you killed. Second, to survive, kill him before he kills you. And lastly, to trust your instincts. Many students had trouble with that last one, as often instinct contradicted orders."

"Wouldn't hatred, especially as white-hot as hers, help in battle?"

"Hatred isn't the only motivation for war, it just brings about more pointless death."

I paged through the record, trying to think of another question to ask.

"You mentioned she had a crush or something earlier, know anything about that?"

"Apparently she had a young love that the capitol snatched early in. Knowing the capitol, I'd be pretty damn surprised if he was still alive. Sorry, I don't have a name or anything."

"Who was she as a person, what was her personality like?"

Alvina shrugged her shoulders, and shook her head. "You might try talking to one of the other members of her training group, let me see if I can find one for you." She stood up and walked over to an old trunk lying beside her bed. She opened it and pulled out a dusty binder. She set it down on the table, wiping a layer of dust off of it. She sat still, gazing at the closed binder for a few moments before opening it. "Group number… 44, here we go. The pages were filled with names and faces. As her eyes moved from picture to picture, I could see her start to tense up. At the end of the page, she closed her eyes tight and sat motionless. A tear soon came to her eye.

"Are you alright?" I asked. She brushed away the tear and looked up at me.

"I lost them…" she said. "I put my knowledge into the heads of every single one of them, and they died out there. They were practically my children, my flesh and blood. I will never overcome that grief…"

"Would it be okay if I asked you some questions about what happened?"

"No, no… I am past that now. I've entrusted everything I know, to a new generation. I will never teach anyone ever again, nor will I ever fight again. The next generation inherited the killing ground, I'll just look on from here."

Before I left, she was able to give me another lead, a refugee and recruit, who appeared to have relationship with Katniss Everdeen. Her name was Johanna Mason, a hunger games victor, and a resident of district 7. Johanna never saw the frontlines, she had failed her final combat tests and did not graduate. Her failure may have saved her life.

I wanted to go right away, rather than head back to the capitol, I booked tickets straight to district 7. I was determined to discover who Katniss was as a person, not just a symbol that led the rebel charge and then disappeared from history. The train began to speed along its way. Soon, secrets would be revealed, and my questions would be answered.


	4. The Hidden Truth

District 7, a mid-sized community built in the lush forests along the northwest coast. Nearby in the hilltops is an artificial reservoir held back by a large dam. The region provided paper and lumber to the nation. After leaving the station, I walked straight to the mayor's office, and purchased a directory. Johanna Mason's number and address were both present. I made a call, but received no answer. I decided to swing by her house instead.

The directory address led me into the old Victor's Village. A young blonde woman answered the door. The woman was a housekeeper. She directed me towards the lumber yards.

I passed between buzzing sawmills and stacks of lumber. I asked the foreman about Johanna Mason. He let me wait nearby until lunch break. At noon, the workers came and sat together at long tables in the open air. The formean pointed me towards a middle aged woman with dark hair. She was sitting alone at the end of one of the tables. I walked over, she showed no reaction to my presence.

"Excuse me, miss?" She ignored me, keeping her attention fixed on the beef stew the workers had been served. "um… Johanna Mason, isn't it?"

"Who's asking?" She said brusquely, not even bothering to make eye contact.

"I'm Marcus Fidelis… I'm a reporter for the EPB… I… uh… was wondering if I could ask you some questions."

She fixed her eyes on me, her head stayed pointed down, only her eyes had moved. "Make it quick."

"Thank you… do you mind if I sit here?" I asked, as I set up my camera.

"Actually, I kinda would. But you just used up one of your questions, so I guess this will go faster." She said, finally tilting her head up to face me. Her face was showing signs of age, but she had cold eyes like a snake. I found her glare to be quite unsettling. I pulled out the file, and placed it on my lap, out of her view.

"I understand you were involved in the civil war. Now while you were going through military training in district 13, did you know a… Katniss Everdeen?"

"Who?" she replied without so much as a second thought.

I opened the file and pulled out the picture. I set on the table and slid it towards her. "Katniss Everdeen… Girl on Fire… the Mockingjay…"

"Dammit… Plutarch can't keep a secret, can he?" she said, dropping her silverware and leaning back in her seat. "Yes… I know her."

"Why didn't you say so at first? And you mentioned secrets-"

"It was a government cover-up. But I'll tell you what, you have a sharp nose if you were able to find this, and I've never been a fan of government lies… so screw it, What do you want to know?"

"Well, what can you tell me about her?"

"She was sort of like the rose bushes you see growing around here, pretty to look at, but will prick you if you get to close. She was from district 12… a victor… 74th games. I'm going to guess you already know that."

"As a matter of fact yes, and I understand you were a victor too. Now let's see… I do know she was some kind of poster girl for the rebellion, do you know how she ended up there, because I have this enlistment record and talked to her trainer…"

"It was that stunt she pulled at the end of the games with bread-boy, they both decided that rather than kill each other, they would commit suicide."

"Really? They were just going to defy the capitol like that?"

"It was a huge deal! The game makers ended up letting them both win."

"Oh… it makes sense…" I pulled out Katniss' transcript. It says she won the games, but they must have censored out… what did you call him? Bread-boy?"

"His name was Peeta Mellark. They had the whole capitol hooked on some kind of love-affair. Quite honestly, it was nauseating."

"Peeta Mellark? All the public records list him as the winner, perhaps because he is alive somewhere to verify it? But was their love story… was it real?"

"Yes, as far as I could tell. Wouldn't put much hope in them still being together. The boy is probably in the looney-bin now."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, something happened… the two of us… we were captured by the capitol after…" she paused for a moment, looking off into space. "You know what? Conspiracy be damned! I'll give you the whole story."

I sat on the edge of my seat, enthralled by the words coming out of her mouth. As it turns out, many of the protests that led up to the rebellion were sparked by that one act of defiance. The mere ingestion of toxic berries. A large number of victors were organized by former secretary of communications, Plutarch Heavensbee, who in turn was in contact with District 13. Then came the biggest secret. The 75th hunger games, a spectacle since struck from history. It was a quarter quell, and had a special twist added. Only former victors were eligible for the reaping. Johanna Mason had ties to this conspiracy, and was one of the victors to be reaped.

She had been blacklisted ever since she was a victor. After refusing to cooperate with the Snow administration, who planned to use her as a prostitute, her family was taken and murdered by the Capitol. This in part fueled her rage, but also made the path of no-return easier to walk. She verbally defied the Capitol at every chance. Her Victor status kept her alive, and with no one left to care for, her attacks became much more frequent.

Katniss and Peeta had no knowledge of the conspiracy, but were reaped as well. The victors present defied the capitol, and managed to break the arena force field. Johanna used a knife to remove a tracking device from Katniss' arm after the field went down. A district 13 hovercraft squadron arrived immediately after, and an air battle ensued with Capitol hovercraft. Katniss was among the victors to be rescued during the chaos, Johanna Mason and Peeta Mellark were seized by the capitol. Johanna and Peeta were tortured, and suffered major psychological trauma as a result.

After rescue, Peeta had been brainwashed, and was confined to the care of a psychiatrist. Johanna still suffers from Hydrophobia, due to immersion-shock torture. It was hydrophobia that caused her to fail her training, and likely spared her from the meat-grinder of the frontlines. She and Katniss apparently warmed up to each other as they spent more time together.

"Are you still friends with her?"

"Well that's a difficult question, it's been twenty years. If I met her now, she'd probably be the same bitch she was when we first met, just plus twenty years. Always moaning and moping about her life, even though she was surrounded by family, and her two strapping lovers Peeta, and Gale Hawthorn. We may have been friends, but that didn't make her any less difficult. She promised to kill President Snow for me, she never fulfilled that promise."

"You mentioned Gale Hawthorn, is that the same Gale Hawthorn who was senator?"

"The one who passed all those 'open-gate' laws? Yeah that was him."

I asked a few more questions, about Katniss. I had experience with teenagers before, I knew that underneath all the angst and anger, there was a person. I got what information I could, until Johanna ran out of answers. I said goodbye, and left for the capitol.

Upon my return, I was forced to put my investigation on hold as my vacation was up. My boss detected a noticeable decrease in my work performance. Often in the middle of writing a story, I couldn't help but daydream. The thought of returning to my obsession, to find the Mockingjay, and uncover the truth behind the start of the civil war. One day, he called me in to his office. He asked about my poor work performance, I decided to pitch an idea to him. An EPB documentary, "Mockingjay: The Hero History Forgot." I showed him my video footage of the interviews, as well as the documents and records I had access to. He told me he would consider it. On my off-hours I would lay on my bed, reading over the documents dozens of times. Speculating, thinking. What other secrets were being hidden? What else would my search uncover? And why was it kept secret to begin with?

Three days later, I got a call from my boss. The network had agreed to air my story in the form of a three part documentary. I would have all travel costs covered, as well as be paid during my investigation. I was overjoyed. The network offered additional personnel to assist, but I refused. Perhaps a bit of selfishness over "my" discovery. But I wanted to be the one to hear these stories, as well as the suspense and joy of putting the pieces together. Later that day, at the archives, I picked up a lead.

It would seem Johanna was right about Peeta. I found his name in a medical record of admission to the Panem Mental Institution in District 1. There was no train ride this time, the EPB paid for private hovercraft transport, and I was there in mere hours. Using my new position as a documentary maker, I was allowed access to the hospital. And a chance to meet Peeta Mellark. A guard met me at the entrance, a precaution, as the hospital treated many violent and unpredictable patients. I was led down the corridor to the cell, I used a hand-held camera this time. The walls were painted a variety of warm and soft colors, giving the place a very calm feel. I was met by a doctor, she led me to the cell.

The cell was white, and padded on every surface. The lights were turned off, turning the windowless room very dark. I was informed that seeing people's faces had been known to make him aggressive, and with visitors in the room, it helped to be cautious.

"Hello, are you Peeta Mellark?" I asked as nicely as possible. The man was in a straitjacket and sat in the corner.

"I don't know…" he replied. "That's what the doctors call me, so I guess I am." He twitched nervously. The doctor had a sedation syringe at the ready in case things took a turn. The doctor had given me a small flashlight, so that I could show him the picture of Katiniss.

"Do you recognize this woman?" I asked, I turned on the flashlight. Making sure not shine it at myself or him, I held the picture out at arm's length with the light on. I walked closer, I was within a few feet of him now. "Her name is Katniss Everdeen."

He began to shake, making an animal like hissing sound. I turned the light off and he lurched forward. I jumped back and the doctor came in and sedated him immediately. "What did I say?" she said calmly. "Faces make him aggressive." I shined the flashlight on him, getting a look at his face for the first time. It was apparent almost immediately. He had blonde hair, but his face… it was wrong.

"You said this is Peeta Mellark?" I asked.

"That's what the files and cell ID say." The doctor said.

"No…this isn't right." I turned off the camera and headed out the door. The victor records had plenty of pictures of him, this man looked nothing like him. I went straight to the main desk and demanded to speak with the head of the establishment, Dr. Aurelius. I produced photo evidence that the man was not Peeta, and angrily asked if the lights had been turned off to prevent people from identifying him as someone else. The man was adamant that it was not the case, and that the fellow in the cell was in fact Peeta Mellark, victor of the 74th games. He also mentioned that he did have violent reactions to human faces, and the lights had been out for that reason. Given the reaction to the photograph, I took that as truth. Eventually, I was escorted out of the institution. Although I did not have my camera, I kept a small audio recorder in my pocket and recorded the whole conversation.

Upon return to the capitol, my search turned to Peeta Mellark. However every source I could get a hold of, classified and public, pointed to the man in the mental institution. Could it be that he and the Mockingjay were together to this day? They were a young couple thrown into the Hunger Games, an incredible coincidence. Perhaps his identity was shifted to that man to cover the Mockingjay's trail. Could he have returned home to District 12? A search of the directory showed no Mellarks and no Everdeens. Perhaps his name was changed? Or likely was simply not included at all, an agreement with the government to keep the truth about their existence covered up.

Soon after my trip to district 1, I received a letter from an unknown sender. Handwritten and of few words. "Marcus Fidelis, you may not find what you are looking for, but here is something you may want." Beneath the words was coordinates. It led to central Panem, 3 miles from the capitol and nestled in a forgotten valley. I had the network provided hovercraft readied and did some research into the coordinates. A record of the hunger games. The coordinates were for one of the arena sites. The capitol had over a dozen sites, usually 11 of which were under construction. The Capitol was planning ten games ahead. The Paylor administration had the sites destroyed. But this one seemed to have remained.

As the hovercraft drifted down into the valley, So this is the war's big secret. The arena of the 75th hunger games. Most of the area had been firebombed as an air forces practice range, however that was a cover-up to prevent the spread of mutts that inhabited the arena. Even without the bloodthirsty abominations, the arena still contained an array of environmental hazards, so we were not allowed to set foot inside. This is where the war kicked off. According to Johanna Mason, the arena was like a clock divided into sections. Every hour a new hazard would occur. At 12, lightning would strike a large tree, the victors/conspirators strung a piece of wire and used the lighting to overload the force field. Most of the forest had been reduced to ash, however a lake in the center and the silver cornucopia still remained. Littered across the area were the twisted metal carcasses of military hovercraft, remnants of the aerial battle that ensued after the force field went down. We circled many times, I recorded every second of it. Proving the existence of the 75th games, and further legitimizing the existence of the "victor conspiracy". The existence of the 75th games was concealed. And the events soon faded from people's memory. Perhaps the then president, Alma Coin, didn't want to risk another civil war. And insured that Katniss Everdeen, the embodiment of rebellion, and all connected to her, were sealed away from history. Maybe this was one path to achieve peace.

With my obsession now being turned into a full blown documentary, I decided to go out and capture more about the revolution she sparked. I figured it would make it more interesting than just me chasing after a girl with no solid proof of her existence. I arranged transport to District 8, the first district to rebel. I wanted to capture the Mockingjay from their point of view, the peacekeepers and the rebels. The ones who didn't know her, but had seen her on TV. Her single act of defiance shook the entire nation, and I was determined to learn the magnitude of the tremors she caused.


	5. Men with Broken Wings

"Ring the bells! Ring them louder! Tell them we are free!" the voice on the recording said.

I had been listening to audio and video excerpts from the fighting in District 8 during my hovercraft ride. District 8 produces textiles, and was the first district to rebel. To this day, the district maintains a strong rebel spirit. Through my sources, I had arranged meetings with two men, Cassius Recker and Parka Hewn. No less than five minutes after setting foot in the district, I came across an iron memorial. A statue of 3 people, a man, woman, and child. Each figure wore ragged clothing, the man had bandages over his head, covering his left eye. The woman was standing on crutches with a missing leg and bandages over her mouth. The child had his arm in a sling. Underneath was an inscription. "Dedicated to all who perished in the bombing of the makeshift hospital at warehouse #16 on October 30th, year 561.

There were roving bands of patriotic tourists here and there, visiting the historic monuments commemorating the start of the rebellion. There wasn't much other than that, the district had a very gray look to it, not a shred of greenery in sight. Many of the monuments and gravesites were surrounded by tourists, taking pictures and leaving flowers. One in particular stood out, a stone monolith with a soldier on top. Closer inspection revealed it to be the statue of a peacekeeper. The peacekeeper was down on one knee, a rifle in his right hand, with his left hand on his right shoulder as if wounded. On the monolith was an inscription. "Dedicated to all Capitol Personnel who fell in our district, they shall never see home again." The monument did well to remind me why I had chosen to interview Cassius Recker. During the war, Cassius was a member of a hoverplane crew and flew these very skies, and he is still here to this day.

I entered into the lobby of the apartment building, decent accommodations, although not high-end. Most peacekeeper veterans received pensions alongside their rebel counterparts as per President Paylor's legislation. On the 3rd floor was Cassius' apartment. I knocked on the door and he answered rather cheerfully.

"Ah, you're the journalist I presume?" he welcomed me into the apartment, a mid-sized abode similar to my own back in the capitol. It was remarkably well kept, clean and well organized. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No thank you," I said. He offered me a seat on the couch while he sat in a chair across from it. "This is quite a nice place, in contrast to the rest of the district."

"I take pride in cleanliness. They say the peacekeeper never leaves you, you end up liking things nice and organized for the rest of your life." He said with a smile. He certainly didn't seem like the typical 'peacekeeper bad guy'. He was a cheerful 41 year old man, with glasses and a large bald spot. He appeared to be in average physical shape, not quite muscular, not quite obese.

I set up my camera and began the interview. "Now then, on the day everything started, where were you?"

"Let's see… I was in district 2, me and the guys in my air wing were just having a typical day. Lounging around etc. We had just finished combat exercises a few days ago. The alert came and we were called into briefing, the District 8 forces had been overrun, the justice building, armory, HQ and some other places had been seized by rebels. Initially, we were taken aback. How could mere tailors and seamstresses overrun our guys? We climbed into our hoverplanes, there were 4 of us in all. There was Scipio Verek, the craft commander. Pindarus Harris, the co-pilot. Mellissa Titus, the pilot. And there was me, the weapons officer."

"Oh, so this was the initial fighting?"

"Yes, it was the first time any of us saw actual combat. For our pilot Mellissa, it was only the fourth time she had ever flown. She was young too, younger than the rest of the crew, only 18. We had a bit of a… bond, we had actually been flirting a bit when we were called to fly. So our formation reached the district around midday. Commander Scipio calmly commanded me to initiate the bombing sequence. I cheered as the first bomb struck its target, a barricaded rebel position outside the armory. We hit more targets until we were out of bombs. Afterwards, we flew back with the others. As soon as we landed, Pindarus turned around in his seat, eyes wide and a big smile on his face. 'We did it,' he said."

"That's definitely going in the documentary." I said. I stopped the camera and pulled out the data card. I put a small check mark on the card with a marker and put it back in. Peacekeeper testimony wasn't exactly uncommon, but was definitely under-represented.

"I'm glad to see that I'm interesting, not just a creepy old dude." He said laughing.

I laughed as well before continuing my questions. "Now did you fly other missions?"

"Yep, 6 others. After each one Mellissa would give me a big kiss and we'd have a… 'celebration' in the barracks afterwards."

"After all that, how did you end up here in District 8?"

"I was hoping you would ask that," he said with a smile. "These stories need to be told."

He cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair.

So on October 30th, we were sent on a mission. District 8 was mostly under rebel control, the bombing missions were an attempt to decrease the districts usefulness. We had just initiated the bombing sequence I launched the first piece of ordinance which exploded on a house rooftop. When-"

Cassius paused mid-sentence and walked over to a shelf holding a multitude of model military vehicles. He pulled down a C-99 Hoverplane and brought it back to his seat.

"You can kinda see through the windows, the pilot and co-pilot are seated beside each other up front. Behind them is the commander's seat in the center. Then behind that, to the left along the wall was my seat, the weapons station." He held the model closer so I could see. There were 4 seats inside the Hoverplane's small cabin.

He continued. "I glanced up, and I saw an arrow for a split second through the cockpit window. Ive thought about that day many times, the arrow had to have been explosive tipped. It hit right here, above engine block 2."

He pointed to a bulge in the wing of the model.

"The whole aircraft rocked sideways, Pindarus was closest, and was killed instantly. Bits of shrapnel and broken glass flew into Mellissa's face, along with burning fuel and hydraulic fluid, setting her on fire in her seat. I will never forget the way her scream echoed through the tiny crew compartment. Her shrieks died down after a few seconds, a piece of glass had cut open her jugular, and spared her the pain of burning to death. Commander Scipio ripped off his harness and jumped out of his seat. He grabbed the controls to counter the aircrafts sideways pitch. He stood there next to Melissa and Pindarus' bodies, fighting to keep the aircraft stable. Warning lights were flashing on every control panel. I sat their frozen, the commander looked back at me. To us, the man was made of steel, he was an unbreakable warrior. But he looked back, and I could see fear in his eyes for the first time. He said 'Bail out.'

Cassius paused for a second, as if re-living the memory.

"And did you?" I asked.

"At first I did nothing, I just stared at him, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. The fear in his eyes disappeared, replaced by his familiar piercing gaze. He said 'Now! That's an order!' I unhooked the harness and grabbed a parachute and walked to the rear door. I opened it and before I jumped I looked back at the Commander, still wrestling with the dying machine. Then I jumped."

"Did Commander Scipio jump after you?"

"No, and I think I know why. I caught a glimpse of the Hoverplane, the wing was smoking and the engines were flickering. A portion of the wing had been ripped off, along with the hydraulic cable that stabilizes the flaps on that side of the aircraft.

He ran his finger across the aft section of the wing.

"The Commander had to manually hold the flaps level, otherwise the aircraft would spiral out of control. If that happened, bailing out would be impossible. The engines failed and the aircraft crashed into the ground. I was the only one who escaped. I took some clothes off a dead man, and blended in here until the war ended."

"That is quite a story, I can see why you wanted it remembered."

"I don't blame anyone, war is war. I've lived a comfortable life here as a fashion designer… and I probably have the Commander to thank for that."

I asked about his other missions, and he was happy to oblige. He went on about the various missions, including the bombing of District 12. He stopped talking when we heard bells ringing outside.

"Those same bells were ringing after I landed, they ring them every day to celebrate the victory. It's supposed to symbolize peace, but to me that's the sound of death…"

After the interview, I set out to my next source. A former rebel fighter named Parka Hewn. Parka was among the rebel forces in the initial uprisings, and continued fighting until the end of the war. He is rumored to be one of the founding members of the uprising. After the war, he refused a government pension and disappeared. He surfaced later as a leader of a segregationist terrorist organization. He is currently serving time in prison.

I arrived at the District 8 correctional facility expecting to meet in a visitation room. As it turns out the facility was maximum security, with no visitors allowed. I flashed my journalists past and was escorted to the cell blocks after a security inspection. The cell block was a large room lined with barred off rooms, it was slightly chilling knowing this area was once a Capitol torture site. There was a distinct feeling of control, cameras, alarms, and guards were everywhere. Inside the cells were the prisoners, intimidating people, scars and tattoos snaking down their bodies.

At last we reached the cell. I set up my camera, I was only allowed to be outside the cell. The guards began banging on the cages, telling the inmates to stop talking.

"Parka Hewn right?" I began "Im Marcus Fidelis, the journalist for the EPB."

"Ah… I remember… you're here to interview me." He said. He was a small man, compared to the other inmates. He had a single tattoo on his arm that read Sic Semper Tyrannus.

"Now I'm making a documentary so I have some questions about the early days of the rebellion. How did all of this start?"

"Well… are you familiar with the Girl on Fire?" He said, with a smirk.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Katniss Everdeen."

"Oh… aren't you a clever one to find that. So it was around the time of her and Peeta's victory tour, you know where they visit all the districts? To put things in perspective, this is the saddest place in all of Panem. Not a single plant anywhere in this industrial choked morass, long working hours etc. It takes a toll on people. A short time after the tour, some of the factory workers started to talk. There were protests ringing out everywhere. One day, the foreman called me and some of the other supervisors into the office. He showed us this video… you're too young to remember but the Capitol used to play this video showing the destroyed District 13. There was a little mockingjay in the corner, flying. And that thing was there in every broadcast it was reused footage. The thought was that the area was independent from Capitol rule, and if we could get there we'd be safe. Talk continued for some time, a little stolen money here… an improvised weapon there… We were going to cause a stir and try to flee the district."

"But you stayed, what changed?"

"The whole country changed, things got worse. Most of no longer wanted to run, we wanted to fight, be free. So that factory we worked at made peacekeeper uniforms, so we cobbled some together using leftover material. I donned one of those uniforms on that fateful night. I was carrying a duffel bag with an improvised bomb made with industrial chemicals and machine parts. I placed it just inside the armory and left. When it detonated, it killed the guards instantly and ripped open the security barriers. The workers poured in and grabbed weapons, we started distributing to the locals and before long we had a peasant army on our side. We stormed a few other targets and the district was ours. Workers climbed up to the bell towers around here, the ones used to signal the end of a shift. They rang those bells for an hour in celebration."

"It didn't last long though right? The Capitol came back, what happened then."

"Seamstresses vs. soldiers what do you think happened. They bombed the hell out of the place and Peacekeepers landed in the hundreds. Me and a few others decided to ditch our stations and returned to our homes, some even fled the district itself. After the fighting they Capitol blew up the factory where it all started."

"When did things turn back around?"

"District 12 was destroyed, and District 13 formally entered the conflict. Troops from the other districts soon started arriving and we beat the capitol after a bloody battle of attrition. I took up my weapon and joined for that last push. After that it was just a matter of surviving the air raids. The Girl on Fire and here entourage even showed up to bolster morale."

"Now I have to ask, how did you end up here? Why did you deny a pension and join those terrorists?"

"I wanted to be free… is that a crime?" He said with venom. Clearly this was something he cared about.

"We are free," I answered.

"That's a load of crap. Three hundred years ago your Capitol annexed this beautiful little country and turned it into the cesspool it is today. Nowadays? We still have some bastard in a suit in that city dictating our lives."

"But things are different, the people elected our leaders. They in turn do what we want."

"A man is no more a slave just because he gets to choose a new master every few years… that's a quote. The people of this district owe nothing to the other districts. Same for all districts. We wanted a free world."

"I see, so that was what drove you."

"yes… it was." He paused for a moment, and then chuckled lightly. "This cell is the only world I know now." He began. "I'm actually rather fond of it, no one ever comes in, I just sit here alone. I owe nothing to these other prisoners, and they owe nothing to me. In here, I am my own man… it's the world I always wanted."

After digging up a few more small details, I packed up and left the facility. The interview with Parka left some valuable insight into the mindset of the rebelling people. The Capitol held all, ruling and threatening to further its end. It took some very strong, or even radical minds to step up and try to change things. As I boarded the hovercraft, I felt a slight sadness. I had run out of sources, Perhaps this was the end of my research for the documentary.

But… There was one person I had not visited, someone who would know the real Girl On Fire.


	6. The Curtain Falls

Gale Hawthorn, a man whose name came up in many of the previous interviews. Sources indicated that he had been a District 12 native, and a friend to Katniss Everdeen. Some sources even implied that the two had a romantic relationship. After the war, Gale pursued a career in politics, and became a rather popular senator. After his term, he took a break from politics. He later stated in a press conference that he planned to run as Minister of the Interior, and later, for president. After several calls through government offices, I was able to find his location. To my surprise, Gale Hawthorn wasn't even in the country.

6 months ago, Gale and a few dozen other people boarded a hovercraft to Tribus Afcanus, a continent to the east. The nation had become embroiled in a horrible civil war. People from nations across the globe joined in to fight whoever they perceived as the villain. I finally established contact when I gave a letter to a volunteer leaving the country. A week later, I received a handwritten letter from Gale himself. He gave me an address and location. After one month, I was on an international flight to Tribus Afcanus.

After landing, I parted ways with the volunteers. The city was in rough shape, Undili was once the crown jewel of the continent, a well-developed and prosperous capital city that was on par with Panem's Capitol. A war of seccession broke out after the assassination of the king and his sons. Of the two contenders, one advocated pragmatic policy and massive reform to the nation. The other wanted to return things to the way the king once had. The conflict drew interest from the international community, and soon after, volunteers from Panem to Europine began arriving. The war had been hard on these people, smoke rising on the horizon, beggars everywhere, and the air was tainted with the smell of human decay. In this new world, a body armor vest was my only protection.

I reached the address, a rundown 2 story apartment block. The windows were either broken or boarded up and the front door had been ripped off its hinges and lay against the side of the building. A pile of garbage sat on the lawn beneath the second story stairwell window, likely the residents simply threw their waste out the windows, to pile up on the lawn. I checked the note again, this was the correct address, second floor, apartment C. broken glass scrunched under my feet as I ascended the dark stairwell. In the hallway was a woman sitting on the floor nursing a baby. She looked at me with a somewhat concerned expression, her eyes following me as I walked past her. She knew I was an outsider.

I knocked on the apartment door, "Who is it?" a voice asked, in a distinct Panem accent.

"Marcus Fidelis." I replied, the door opened and there stood Gale Hawthorn, almost unrecognizable. His hair was disheveled, and he sported a thick beard.

"Come on in," He said, motioning me inside. "Sorry about the accommodations." The apartment was indeed a mess, as one could have expected. A single light bulb provided dim yellow light to the dark room, illuminating the dust that drifted through the air. There were only two rooms, in the main one that I was currently in, there was a living area and a kitchen. The other was a bedroom with a single mattress covered in sheets, a rifle leaned against the wall.

"Take a seat," Gale said, "The couch is more comfortable than it looks." I set up my camera and he took a seat across from me. He wore a worn out leather jacket and frayed jeans. His military style boots were crusted with mud and one had a hole near the toes.

"Hang on, before we get started, you wouldn't happen to have a shaving kit in that bag?" he asked.

"I do, I packed for three days." I answered.

"Mind If I shave first? I'm a politician, I have at least look somewhat presentable."

I allowed him to use my razor, and we finally started the interview. "Now then, as I stated in my letter I seek the 'Girl on Fire', Katniss Everdeen. Now your name came up quite a lot in the sources I dug up. I was wondering what you could tell me about her."

A smile came to his face as he reminisced on the old memories. "She was born in District 12, same as me. She grew up poor, her father illegally hunted to keep her family fed… Do you want the short version or the long version?"

"Long version, I have two days to kill."

"Well… it was a typical summer's day. Kids were out of school, causing trouble. When an explosion rocked the entire district. There had been a coal mine explosion, not uncommon, but this one was bad. My father and her father were both coal miners. They both died that day. It was… a few years later, I was 14, she was 12. I had to hunt to provide for my family, and so did she. It was only a matter of time before we ran into one another. Over time we warmed up to each other and became friends and hunting partners."

"Some of my sources seemed to suggest that you were… romantically involved."

"Eh… that's a half-truth, it was complicated. It wasn't until three years into our friendship. A peacekeeper was flirting with her, and I realized that it annoyed me. Of course, I never told her my true feelings until after the Hunger Games, if I had, I think things may have come out differently."

"Speaking of Hunger Games, she was a tribute correct?"

"Quite a tale that was." He said, leaning back in his chair. "On the day of that reaping… are you familiar with Tesserae?"

"As I understand, you were given rations for putting your name in more than required."

"That's right, so we were poor. My name was in forty-eight times, Katniss' I want to say was about twenty or thirty. My younger siblings didn't put in for tesserae. Katniss' sister, Primrose, had her name in only once, once! And when they drew the name for the female tribute… Primrose Everdeen. The peacekeepers started pulling her away, screaming and crying. Then… Katniss yelled 'I volunteer'."

"She volunteered! That's incredible!"

"It was unheard of! District 12 had never had a volunteer, not ever. At this point, Prim was crying even more. They let Katniss take her place, and I had to carry Prim away."

"Now what was it like for you? Having to watch your friend go through the hunger games?"

"Harder than you think. I had to hunt extra game, I had promised to provide for her mother and sister. Not only was I fearing for her safety… the male tribute, Peeta Mellark, apparently had history with her. They sort of blossomed into this on-camera love affair. To put it honestly, I was hurt. I even thought that I should have volunteered in Peeta's place.

"What about after the games?"

"Well, you won't find any tapes of the victory tour, let alone the games. But, that was harder. As distressed as I was about her relationship with Peeta… It's kind of cold-hearted, but I took solace in knowing that if she won, Peeta would be dead. Of course that wasn't the case, they both won. And I had to watch the Capitol media showing them as two starry-eyed lovers. I won't lie, when she came back, I acted like a bit of an asshole. But she still seemed to have feelings for me, she told me that it was all just for show. One day, I had caught some wild turkey and I brought it to the head-peacekeepers residence, as the head peacekeeper Cray was one of my customers. It turned out to be something different, and my punishment for poaching was scourging in the square, she stepped in and saved me… I still have scars if you want to see."

"Sure, go ahead."

He removed his shirt, revealing large scars crisscrossing across his back. I took some video of it. He put his shirt and jacket back on and we continued the interview.

"so… Katniss came in to save me. I was in a lot of pain so the details are a little hazy, but she brought me to her mother who was a healer. While I was 'unconscious' she gave me a kiss. I don't think she knows that I know that.

"And what about when the 75th games came?"

"Geez… you know about that too? You've got some connections if you know about that. That time I had a thought. There was no way the two would win again. If Katniss won, I could have her, if she died, I would lose her. I believed that she loved me, but during the games, she had this passionate kiss with Peeta, on a beach of all places, and all that went out the window. Later on, the broadcast suddenly shut down. And Capitol hovercraft began bombing District 12. I was able to lead people to safety through a hole in the fence, and we were rescued by District 13 hovercraft."

"Okay, this question is a little off topic, but who was she as a person?"

Gale thought for a moment. "She had a stony exterior, but cared deeply for her family and friends."

"How did she earn the nicknames 'Mockingjay' and 'Girl on Fire'?"

"You know what a Mockingjay is, right?" he asked

"Of course" I replied.

"Every tribute was allowed to take a token from their homeland into the arena. She brought a little pin with a Mockingjay on it… hold on a second." Gale stood up and walked over to a duffel bag sitting in the corner. He dug through and produced a similar pin. "This one." He held it in front of the camera. "It got a cult following, everyone wanted the winners token. People were getting it tattooed, they had it on clothes, you name it! Mockingjays were always a source of humiliation for the capitol, so it evolved into a symbol for the rebellion."

"So that's why you have one? You were involved in the civil war…"

"This is the one. This is the very same pin she wore in the games."

"It is? How did you end up with it?"

"I found atop a drawer in her hospital room. I've held on to it ever since. A little piece of history."

"Could it be… do you still have feelings for her?"

"Nah… it's been 20 years since we've seen each other. Besides, I have a wife and four kids waiting for me back in the Capitol."

"Can you tell me about your involvement in the civil war?"

"I did various things, I helped design weapons, traps mostly. That's how I used to hunt. I was at District 8, District 2, The Capitol, District 12. My relationship with Katniss became a little deeper, but also more strained as time went on. She was always so worried about Peeta. I couldn't stand seeing her like that. so I volunteered with a group to rescue him. I got shot in the process, but I like to think it was worth it just to see that smile. Of course things were complicated, Peeta was insane, brainwashed by the Capitols torture."

"Did he recover?"

"As far as I know, he did. He had a mini-freakout during events in the Capitol, but he normalized. I was even ready to shoot him if he attacked Katniss… You know what… I have a story for you."

"Oh? What is it?" I asked, intrigued

"Our unit was hit by traps and our squad leader killed. We were cut off with no back up. But we weren't all that far from Capitol-held territory. Our squad leader put Katniss in charge as he lay dying. She came to us with a proposal, kill President Snow. We figured we were dead anyway, might as well try."

"Did you accomplish that goal?"

"No… we didn't… we passed through the sewers and were attacked by mutts. One by one members of our squad were killed. Those of us who remained took shelter in a store. Eventually, we split. I followed Katniss. A trap activated in the street and we ended up separated on opposite sides of the street. I was grabbed by peacekeepers within seconds. I yelled for her to shoot me, but I guess she didn't hear…" He paused for a moment, deep in thought, likely reliving the memory in his head.

"I should have died that day… but I didn't. I escaped, and dragged my wounded body into a bombed-out building… there were still people living there, a young couple. They saved me."

"What happened in the closing days of the war? Why was she removed from history?"

"Her sister… Primrose, died at the battle of the capitol. She was specifically targeted by Alma Coin, they thought if Prim died, Katniss would hate the Capitol and side with Coin. Of course somehow she found out. On the day she was supposed to execute Snow, I don't know how she found out. But instead, she fired a single arrow, killing President Coin. You see… you know how the Capitol hovercraft bombed the children outside Snow's mansion?"

"Of course."

"It wasn't the Capitol, it was District 13 in a Capitol hovercraft. Those bombs were similar to the ones I designed. I can't help but feel I was somewhat responsible. Katniss I don't think will ever forgive me for my part in that slaughter, and the death of her sister."

"So I see… Coin would have been just as bad as Snow, and that's why she killed him?"

"It's not that rational, Katniss was angry, plain and simple."

"How, and why, was she removed from history?"

"Most people in the political and intellectual community, such as myself, are fond of referring to the civil war as 'The Great Catastrophe.' Do you realize how many people died afterwards due to poverty, disease, and homelessness? Or how many died as a result of the fighting, of starvation? To this day people still aren't happy. We may be freer, but that doesn't make life any less miserable. And the saddest part, every single person who died was a citizen of Panem. After the death of Coin, the last thing leadership wanted was further violence. People wanted freedom, who's to say they wouldn't have tried to secede from the country? Hiding Katniss kept this country together. She had had her share of fighting, she got what she wanted. She went on to live a normal life and her legend soon faded from memory."

"Perhaps that was one path to achieve peace."

"It didn't work, another civil war is coming… give it another… 30 years. That's why I aim to be president, to find a way to prevent this from happening. That's why I'm here in Tribus Afcanus… a good leader can keep order. I want to see what a leader really is, and what they mean to people. That's why I'm a volunteer in this war of secession, I don't know if I'll find what I'm hoping for, but I still want to try."

"Well that's a very noble goal, I wish you luck." I said.

Gale fell silent, he looked at the boarded up window, ribbons of light peeping through the cracks. He turned back to me. "Will she see this video?" he asked.

"Who? Katniss?" He nodded. "I don't know, maybe if I meet her."

"If you do meet her, give her a message for me."

I adjusted the camera and zoomed in on his face. "Go ahead." I said.

A smile came to his face and for the first time during the entire meeting, he seemed genuinely content. "Hey, Catnip, hope life has been well. Thank you friend… hope to see you again."

After the interview concluded, I spent the next two days in an international aid shelter before getting a flight back to Panem. We landed in District 12, where I planned to get some final shots for the documentary. On the way back, I thought of Gale's story, how he was saved by a young couple in the battle of the capitol, I made the connection. That couple had been my parents, I was young and only had faint memories, but they saved a rebel soldiers life, and that rebel turned out to be Gale Hawthorn.

District 12 had certainly come a long way since pre-civil war. With the reintegration of District 13, most of Panem had switched over to nuclear power and demand for coal plummeted. District 12 now specializes in medicine. I visited the square, where the reaping's once took place. This was where it all started. In the center was a plaque with the names of all the District 12 tributes. Many of the early ones where listed as 'Unknown District 12 Tribute' I went over the names until the 74th games. Peeta Mellark and 'Unknown District 12 Tribute'. A small part of me wanted to take a pen and write Katniss Everdeen, but this was a memorial to dead children, so I decided against it. I went up to the meadow near the area that was once Victors Village. Two children were playing in the meadow, laughing and giggling. Unbeknownst to them that under this meadow was the mass grave were 7,200 people lie, killed by the firebombing. I went to the Seam, the poor region where Katniss had grown up and shot some footage there as well. After I felt satisfied, I boarded a hovercraft back to the capitol and left.

Upon my return, I finally accepted the EPB's offer and received several crew members to help put my documentary together. It was to be titled "Girl on Fire, Mysterious Heroes of the Civil War." I wanted to bring light to the victor conspiracy, the 75th games, but most importantly, Katniss Everdeen. Still being selfish over my discovery, I constantly met with my team, as well as hovering over their work telling them how I wanted it done. The documentary would run as a two part series, consisting of one hour each. I could barely fit everything in.

I narrated the entire thing. It began with a beginning segment of my interview with Gale Hawthorn, then an introduction to the civil war, and the declassification of the documents that led me to the Mockingjay. I became obsessed, annoying my team to no end. Put this clip here… play that ambience there… this part can be cut out, etc. So tyrannical I was over the creation process, co-workers began addressing me as Mr. President, or sometimes Mr. Snow, which quickly became a running joke.

The mid portion contained many of my interviews, often with bits of Gale Hawthorn's interview in between to create conflicting views. To Romulus Thread, she was a stubborn girl full of hate, to Farlan Kale she was a symbol of pride and hope. But to Gale, she was just a girl who had greatness thrust upon her. I showed the interviews with Cassius and Parka, as well as footage from various memorials. Using archival footage, I had a segment about the bombing outside the Snow mansion, and how Primrose Everdeen was killed, I had footage of me visiting her gravestone as well. It was also at this point that my focus shifted away from the war itself, and more on her story, eventually building up the final third, which brought attention to the victor conspiracy and the 75th games. I made a point to mention in the narration about how the government had hidden the truth to ensure lasting peace, followed by a clip of Gale's interview to back up the claim. I focused on Johanna too, and mentioned names of other victors whose names came up in her interview. In the final twenty minutes I used film and audio from my search to show that her name was nowhere to be found in any record, or any memorial. And that similarly, Peeta Mellark whom she was rumored to be romantically involved with, could not be found on anything post-war. The two lovers had run off and disappeared.

In the final minutes, I summarized the story of my search and how despite my effort, I could not find her. As soon as the product was finished, I submitted it to the network, they decided to give it a public premier in the capitol before being aired across the nation. They kept the premise largely secretive, and invited several military personnel and prominent figures to the showing. 3 months of void past as I counted the days to release. The premier date finally came, I attended the showing in my best suit, I even had a stylist do hair and makeup to ensure I looked as presentable as possible. The film opened with my narration.

"The Civil war is shrouded in mystery, but twenty years after, the first batch of records was finally released." The intro kept on going about the civil war until revealing the existence of the Mockingjay the narration continued. "Very little is known about her, in fact, its questionable if she really did exist. But thanks to my sources, I tracked down several individuals that knew her," it then cut to a clip of my interview with Gale Hawthorn, sitting on a chair and smiling at the camera. "Gale Hawthorn, is one such man." Being in the front row, I looked back to the audience. I smiled as I saw the confusion and surprise on their faces, everyone knew who Gale Hawthorn was.

At the very end, the camera was panning out from my original picture of Katniss Everdeen sitting atop the file I found her in. "Katniss Everdeen… the Mockingjay… the Girl on Fire… her legend filled the minds of the people for only a few months until her disappearance, apart from that, very little is known about her. I was never able to find her, never found out what kind of a person she really was." The screen then cut to black. "But every time they talked about her… they always had a slight smile on their faces. Perhaps that was my answer." The credits then began to roll, and I received a standing ovation from the audience. I walked up in front and thanked them for coming. I spent the rest of the evening answering questions in the lobby of the theater.

After a week, the documentary finally aired and became a national sensation. My phone rang constantly with producers and fellow reporters all dying to know specifics. I became a minor celebrity, appearing on several talk shows on radio and TV. Around 3 months after airing, I received a letter from Gale Hawthorn, the war in Tribus Afcanus had ended, and he had returned to the Capitol. He told me that the Department of the Interior was a mess, with high level officials sifting through documents night and day trying to figure out how I had discovered the Mockingjay. He also mentioned seeing the documentary itself, and congratulated me on a job well done.

I thought about Katniss Everdeen, where was she at this moment? Had she seen the documentary? And what did she think of it? Did I just ruin her quiet life? Or was she glad her story finally became known? But also on my mind is what Gale had said, about a possible second civil war. I couldn't help but feel like I had somehow contributed to it coming to fruition. But Gale was a good leader, a strong one. If anyone could hold the country together, it was him.

And so the curtain falls on my years from now, the second vault of classified records will be released. Maybe there I would find more information, maybe even find the woman herself. Until then, I must do the hardest thing there is to do… wait.


End file.
